


Nemo Me Impune Lacessit

by derryderrydown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You let Ianto fall into the Rift," Jack said, with a level of strained calm that had Owen edging towards the door. "Alright." He took a deep breath. "But you should know that nobody sleeps until we find him. And I'm probably going to fire you all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nemo Me Impune Lacessit

"And then he wasn't there," Owen finished. He looked at Jack with some trepidation.

"Gwen's still on site," Tosh said, "looking for him. We thought we'd better come back here to let you know." She picked up a piece of tech that looked something like a cross between a toaster and a beer bottle. "And so I could get the scanner."

"You let Ianto fall into the Rift," Jack said, with a level of strained calm that had Owen edging towards the door. "Alright." He took a deep breath. "But you should know that nobody sleeps until we find him. And I'm probably going to fire you all."

"It's not like we _pushed_ him in," Owen said.

"There was this wind," Tosh said. "Out of nowhere. It was really strong."

"He tripped," Owen said. "It's way more his fault more than ours."

"Go. Find. Him," Jack said, and Owen left. Quickly.

"Sorry," Tosh said, and followed.

* * *

Ianto opened his eyes and found himself staring into the face of a corpse. He gagged and scrambled backwards, only to find himself on top of another corpse. "Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Christ." He was scrambling up the side of the ditch before he'd even properly registered where he was or that his clothes were gone.

And then he was standing on a cobbled road, fields littered with bodies stretching out around him.

"Jesus christ, mate. What's happened to you?"

Ianto whirled round and looked up - and up - to the concerned face of a soldier mounted on one of a pair of draught horses pulling a cart. "I don't know," Ianto said. "I don't know-" He didn't know anything, he realised.

The soldier pulled a blanket off one of the horses and tossed it down to Ianto. "Put this round yourself. You're making my horses blush. Now, what's your regiment?"

"I don't know." Ianto looked around but there was nothing familiar there. "I'm not sure..."

"'Ere." The soldier leaned down. "Looks like you've taken a nasty crack on your head."

Ianto touched a hand to his forehead and winced. When he took his hand away, it was covered with blood.

"What's your name? Can you remember?"

"Jones. Ianto Jones." That was something.

"And your officer?"

"Harkness." Oh, thank god, something else.

"The Canadian bugger." The soldier grinned. "You're in luck, you're not far off - your lot's just a few miles up the road. I'm heading past there to get another load of ammo. Want a lift?"

"Yes," Ianto said, with heartfelt relief.

The soldier paused for a moment and said, "Look, I hate to say it but I think you're going to need to get a uniform from one of these dead lads. There's nothing going spare anywhere else and you need it more than they do. You definitely need a rifle more than them."

Undressing the corpse was hard work and the uniform Ianto ended up with was ill-fitting. Worse, it was liberally coated with blood and shit stains. But it was better - just - than being naked.

Faced with the choice between the cart and a horse for the cobbled road, Ianto gritted his teeth and, with a bit of help, clambered up the side of one of the horses. Once he was up there, it was reassuringly like riding a sofa and he was almost sorry when, an hour or so later, they ambled to a halt by a village water pump.

"What do you want, Geordie?" asked a kilt-wearing soldier sitting on the water trough. "After more of our grub?" But he was smiling as he said it.

"I found one of Harkness' lads, back down the road."

Ianto found himself being studied. "Can't say I know him." He nodded his head to a red brick building. "But Harkness is in the pub and he'll know his lot better than I do."

* * *

Tosh looked up from her computer. "I've run the calculations three times," she said. "And he's definitely just gone in time. He's still on the planet and he's still in this dimension."

"Oh, that makes it all fine, then," Jack said. "'Somewhere in time'. No problem."

"Jack," Gwen warned him. "Tosh is doing her best. But can't you get it any more precise, Tosh?"

"He's probably gone back in time?" Tosh said. "Judging by the Rift's activity patterns. And not more than a century."

"There you go, then!" Gwen said. "If he's that recent, there might be some record of him. I'll start looking."

* * *

Ianto pushed the pub door open and was greeted by a loud burst of laughter. The room was dark and it took him a moment to make out the group of officers sitting round a table, pint mugs in hand. "So _I_ said-" a reassuringly familiar American voice started to say, but then stopped. "What is it, private?"

"I'm looking for Captain Harkness," Ianto said.

"I'm probably the closest you're going to get," the American said. "But it's just Lieutenant, unless nobody's bothered to tell me I've been promoted. Take your damn hat off."

Ianto whipped off his bonnet. "I think-" Ianto said. "I'm not sure but I think I'm one of yours."

A pause and then another burst of laughter. "Well," Harkness said, sounding amused, "if you're mine, I'd better take care of you." The figure that stood up was tall with a shock of dark brown hair and Ianto _knew_ him. He felt a surge of relief at being, finally, somewhere that made sense. "Let's get you out of this den of vice and iniquity."

"Everywhere you _go_ is a den of vice and iniquity, Harkness," another voice said. "Even if it was a church before you got there."

"Hush, you'll scare my little Welsh boy." Harkness moved into full view and Ianto was rather startled to see he was wearing a kilt in a subdued blue and green tartan. "Come on, Jones."

Ianto followed him outside. "I was injured, sir," he said. "I can't remember too much."

"I hope you can remember where you left a clean uniform," Harkness said. He studied Ianto for a moment. "What makes you think you're in my company?"

"I'm not?" Ianto felt sick. "But - I remember your name. And I know you. I know your face." Harkness wasn't showing any recognition.

"Odd, because I don't know you in the slightest. And I think I'd remember a Welshman in a Scottish regiment."

"Oh." Ianto tried to think of something else to say but there wasn't anything.

Harkness shrugged. "Still, I've lost enough men that I'm not going to turn away anybody who wants to join. Specially not a strapping lad like yourself." There was something almost indecent about the way he looked at Ianto. "Go and find Sergeant McKilloch and get yourself sorted out."

"Can't I stay with you?" Ianto had said it before he'd thought. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean-"

"You want to stay with me?" There was nothing 'almost' about the indecency now. "Well, I need a new batman. How are you at making coffee?"

"Excellent." Three things he could remember.

"You're hired." Harkness grinned. "Now go and find Sergeant McKilloch and get yourself sorted out. And wash that disgrace of a uniform."

* * *

"You realise you're letting down the regiment," Harkness said the following morning, lying back on his bed. The battalion had been halted for a couple of days and Jack had taken advantage of the break to requisition a room at the inn. "Here we all are in our lovely smart kilts and you're slobbing around in breeches and puttees."

"The sergeant couldn't find me a kilt, sir. Otherwise I'd love to wear one." Ianto was brushing out Harkness' tunic as he spoke. "Kilts are very traditional in Wales, you know."

"I bet you've got the legs for it."

"Oh, I do," Ianto said. "I have the legs for most things."

"I almost feel like you're flirting with me, Jones."

"Really, sir?" Ianto was fairly sure he shouldn't be this relaxed with an officer. But Harkness was... Well, Harkness was Harkness and Ianto _knew_ him. It was just that he still didn't know how.

"Where do you sleep, Jones?"

"I'm billeted in one of the cottages. Eight to a room."

"Sounds cosy."

"Oh, it is. Especially when Menzies starts snoring and McKay starts farting, and then Stewart joins in by talking in his sleep."

Harkness laughed. "You know, Jones, there's a spare bed here. You're welcome to it."

Ianto felt a tingle of anticipation. "That's very kind of you, sir."

"Nothing kind about it. I just want to see your legs."

"Keep flattering me like that and you might just get to."

"However," Harkness said after a few moments. "There was actually a reason I was talking about your uniform. There's a reporter who wants to write about you. A gallant hero who fought his way back to his company and all that bullshit. They want photos."

Ianto stopped. "I... I still can't remember much, sir. I wouldn't be able to tell them anything."

"Don't worry about that, they'll make up the story themselves. They just need your name and face."

* * *

"I've found him!" Gwen shouted.

"Where?" Jack was next to her in an instant.

"This book - stories of the First World War. Look at that photo." She pointed to her screen. "Here's what it says - 'Private Yanto Jones' - they can't spell it, mind - 'of the Argyll &amp; Sutherland Highlanders was one of the first men to be publicly lauded as a war hero. Jones had been left for dead as his regiment retreated in the aftermath of the Battle of Le Cateau but was able to fight his way back to his company, despite-'" She faltered. "'Despite severe head injuries and amnesia. His commanding officer, Lieutenant-'" She stopped again. "Lieutenant _Jack Harkness_?"

"Let me see," Jack said, pushing her out the way. "'Lieutenant Jack Harkness, formerly of the 91st Regiment Canadian Highlanders.'" He blinked. "That's me. Well, that's the story I used to get a commission." He scrolled down the page and stopped suddenly at a painfully staged photograph of himself standing next to Ianto, both of them studying a map. "Definitely me. But I don't remember him."

"It was years ago," Owen said. "You've probably just forgotten him."

"I remember all of them," Jack said quietly. "Every single one. And I _don't_ remember Ianto being there."

Owen came over to look at the photo. "Bloody hell," he said. "You're wearing a _skirt_."

* * *

That night, Ianto attached a couple of buttons more securely to one of Harkness' spare shirts, hung it up and spent a few minutes tidying. And then he took off his boots and tunic, slid into bed and didn't wake until the early morning when Harkness staggered in, blind drunk.

Ianto lit an oil lamp and, in the flickering orange light, steered Harkness to his own bed.

"Mess dinner," Harkness said, sitting down with a thud. Then he leaned close in to Ianto and said, as though imparting a secret, "I had a little bit too much to drink." He managed to sit up again and got a wobbling finger somewhere close to his lips. "Don't think anyone noticed."

"Really, sir," Ianto said, and unfastened Harkness' sporran belt. He had to fight his way past Harkness' wandering hands to unbutton his tunic and shirt. "Upsadaisy, sir." While Harkness leaned on him, Ianto managed to slip off both tunic and shirt and unbuckle Harkness' kilt. And then he had a naked Harkness leaning against him and a sudden suspicion the man wasn't as drunk as he seemed.

"I still haven't seen your legs, Jones."

"You're not in any condition to appreciate them, sir," Ianto said and tried to disentangle himself.

"I'm always in a condition to appreciate them," Harkness said, as he managed to get one hand on Ianto's arse. "I'll show you mine."

"I've seen yours, sir," Ianto said. "The entire regiment has."

Harkness sighed and let Ianto lower him back to his bed. "You win this time." He obediently lay down and let Ianto pull the covers over him. "But I'll get you yet, my pretty."

"I look forward to it, sir."

By the time Ianto had hung up Harkness' uniform, Harkness was asleep and snoring. Ianto got into his own bed which suddenly felt much larger and emptier than it had earlier.

* * *

"Le Cateau," Jack said. "That was August, 1914. One of the very early actions, when we were still retreating after Mons."

"How can you retreat in a trench?" Owen asked.

Jack didn't bother looking at him. "The first few months were all cavalry charges and infantry formations. Very fucking civilised. We didn't dig in until winter."

"So where did you go after Le Cateau?" Tosh asked. "Perhaps we can find out more about what he's doing. Was doing."

"We retreated," Jack said drily. "Just kept falling back, until the road ahead was blocked and we had to stop. We billeted the soldiers in a village outside Saint-Quentin and then..." Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't know."

* * *

"Road's clear," Harkness said the following morning. "We're moving in an hour."

"Already packed, sir."

"And strangely, I'm not surprised." Harkness paused on his way out the door. "Are you sure you'll be okay walking?"

"I'll have to be," Ianto said.

"Leave it to me."

And Ianto spent the day's journey perched on top of a baggage wagon, having his teeth rattled from his head by the cobbled road.

When they halted for the evening, Ianto took possession of a sturdy looking chicken shed, already bedded down with straw, and set up Harkness' and his own bedrolls in there. The small spirit stove went by the door with the tin of bully beef, a few strips of bacon and a can of tea.

It was dark by the time Harkness turned up. "Very homely," he said, and handed over his water bottle. "There's milk in there."

Quarter of an hour later, Ianto served up bully beef fried in bacon fat and a large mug of milky tea. He picked at his own meal and, when Harkness finished eating, Ianto said, "I think I've forgotten how to use my rifle."

In the darkness, he couldn't see Harkness' face and the silence stretched. Finally, Harkness said, "Then I'd better teach you again. Come here."

Harkness' arms round his waist. Harkness' hands moving his over the rifle in small, precise, totally unfamiliar movements. Harkness' breath warm on his neck. And eventually, Harkness' mouth on his jaw and Ianto turning, wrapping his arms round Harkness' neck, kissing him, and they were on Harkness' bed, stripping each other's clothes, and he _knew_ this.

He didn't know how to load and fire a rifle, how to fix a bayonet, but he knew how to make Harkness gasp and writhe under him, make him swear and sweat and scratch his nails down Ianto's back.

Ianto didn't want to think about what that meant.

Lying wrapped around each other, skin damp with sweat and semen, Harkness laughed. "I still haven't seen your legs, Jones."

"You have to earn that privilege, sir," Ianto said sleepily, and he buried his face in Harkness' shoulder and slept.

* * *

"What do you mean, you don't know? I thought you remembered everything," Owen said.

"I _do_. Just-" Jack's eyes opened wide. "Retcon."

"What?" Tosh asked.

"I was fucking _retconned_. You know that yellow fuzziness, where you can almost remember it but not quite?"

"Yeah, that's called having a bad memory," Owen said.

"If you'd been there, you wouldn't forget it," Jack said, voice harsh.

"But if you were retconned," Gwen said.

"Then one of _us_ had to be there to retcon you," Tosh finished. "So how?"

"I don't know." Jack absently rubbed his wrist. "What rift activity's expected?"

Tosh tapped a few keys. "Nothing for a week. Nothing temporal for... about five weeks, give or take." She frowned with frustration. "And even then, I can't say what time. We just don't have enough data to give a reliable pattern prediction.

* * *

Ianto woke before Harkness and lay there, watching the early morning light on his face, shadows of dust motes dancing over his skin. How _did_ Ianto know Harkness?

More to the point, did it matter?

Well, it mattered that he couldn't remember his training; that he still couldn't get his puttees to stay up without being too tight; that he'd had to ask what to do with last night's rations. But he could get through that, learn it all over again.

Did he really need to know about his life before waking up in the ditch?

Harkness shifted in his sleep and the sunlight flashed golden on a few strands of straw in his hair.

Ianto smiled. This was good enough for now.

"Are you watching me?" Harkness said, and Ianto jumped.

"I thought you were asleep, sir."

"You were thinking so loud, you woke me up." And Harkness pulled him in close, mouth on the back of Ianto's neck and arm round his waist, hand moving lower, and Ianto pushed into his grip, desperate for the familiar touch against his skin. "Have to be quick," Harkness murmured.

"Not-" He gasped and pushed his arse back against Harkness' dick as he came. "Not a problem, sir."

"God, _Jones_," Harkness hissed and rolled them both over, Ianto on his stomach and Harkness on top, weight crushing and comforting at once, hands on Ianto's wrists as he thrust against him. Only a few moments until his movements grew jerky and Ianto felt semen pooling on the small of his back. "Jones," Harkness muttered breathlessly. "Shit." He laughed. "I never thought I'd find someone like you _here_."

Ianto bit down on the smart remark and let himself just enjoy the moment.

And then Harkness was standing, hauling Ianto to his feet and brushing straw from his shoulders. He ran his fingers lightly over a bite mark on Ianto's neck. "Good thing those tunics have such high collars," he said, then turned away and started dressing.

On his way out, he turned back and said, "Hey, Jones."

"Yes, sir?"

"I've seen your legs now." He winked and was gone.

* * *

"Jack," Gwen said slowly, "you know that Time Agency thing?"

"Hard for me to forget it."

"Well, didn't you use your wriststrap to travel? Can't you use it now?"

Jack shook his head shortly. "It's been limited."

"Hart could still use his," Owen pointed out.

"Hart hasn't met the same people as me."

Tosh cleared her throat. "I managed to get a few good scans of his wriststrap, before he... left. If I compare it with yours, I _might_ be able to do something."

"You wouldn't be able to," Jack said. "The person who limited it-"

"Was your bloody Doctor, we get it," Owen said. "Okay, fine, he's wonderful. But Tosh isn't exactly stupid. At least let her have a go."

"Go on," Gwen said and, with a sigh, Jack handed the wriststrap over.

He rubbed his bare wrist. "I feel more naked than when I'm naked."

* * *

They marched all day and Ianto found it impossible to settle into the easy, swinging stride of the rest of the company. His pack and rifle rubbed him raw and, by the time they stopped for the night, his boots were full of blood.

This time, the company was billeted in the stableyard of a small chateau and Ianto claimed the loose box standing off on its own.

"Foaling box," Harkness said. "Or quarantine." He settled himself on the stone manger and watched as Ianto tried to muck out the worst of the old horse shit. "You're looking stiff. Last night too much?"

"No, sir," Ianto said, and left it at that.

After a moment, Harkness stood up. "Got to see the major." He dropped a kiss on Ianto's cheek. "I'll be back in time for dinner, honey!"

Ianto blushed and rubbed his cheek against his shoulder.

* * *

"Look what I've got!" Harkness crowed as he handed Ianto a couple of eggs. "And..." He held up a dusty bottle of red wine. "Found it down in the cellars."

"And how would you like your eggs?" Ianto asked.

"Unfertilised."

Ianto grinned. "Scrambled or fried?"

"You choose," Harkness said. "Where's my corkscrew?"

"You don't have one."

"I don't? Damn."

While Ianto scrambled the eggs - and, in a burst of creativity, crumbled in the bully beef - Harkness attacked the cork with his pocket knife. He finally gave up.

"Jones, I think we're going to have to smash the bottle if we're to get at this."

Ianto held out his hand and took the bottle from Harkness. "Watch and learn, sir," he said, and pushed the cork down into the bottle.

"You're a marvel. You'll have to come and work for me when this is all over."

"Depends how much you pay me," Ianto said, and took the first swig from the bottle.

"How much did you earn before you joined up?"

"I don't know," Ianto said. "Give me your mess tin."

Harkness handed it over. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

Ianto shrugged. "I still can't remember much." He emptied half the eggs into Harkness' mess tin and passed it back. "I'm sure it'll come back in time."

Harkness watched him for a moment, then took a swig from the bottle. "Well, as long as you're not bothered."

* * *

Tosh glared over her shoulder at Jack. "You standing there for hours on end is _not_ going to make me work any faster. I'm just as eager to get him back as you are."

"You can't be," Jack said. "You don't know what it was like there."

"Just let her work," Gwen said, and Jack let himself be guided up to his office. "You still need to figure out when and where you got retconned."

"You're right," Jack said, but he still stared down at where Tosh was glancing between computer screens, eyes wide with concentration.

"I've got hold of the regiment's history," Gwen said. "You should be able to work it out from that, yes?"

Jack managed to look away. "Yeah, sure." Gwen's earnest concern was suddenly irritating and he said, "Could you get me a coffee?"

"Course," Gwen said. She paused at the door and looked back. "If you got retconned, we know you got there _somehow_."

"Yeah," Jack said. He didn't point out that they couldn't be sure Ianto was alive at the time.

* * *

"Stop _teasing_," Harkness said and started to push Ianto down, hands on his shoulders, but Ianto hissed in pain and twisted away. Harkness sat up and said, "What is it?"

Ianto tried to ignore the fact he sounded more irritated than concerned. "My pack rubbed a bit," he said.

"Come here." Harkness' hand on his wrist, pulling him back in, and Ianto went willingly. "Damn, I can't see a thing," Harkness said, and reached for his tunic. A moment of fumbling and he struck a match, and Ianto squinted at the sudden burst of light. He could feel the warmth of the match against his skin as he let Harkness examine him, fingers surprisingly gentle. After half a minute, Harkness shook the match out and dropped it into his mess tin. "Well," he said, "you're a mess."

"I'll toughen up," Ianto said.

Harkness moved to lean back against the stone wall and pulled Ianto with him, settling him between his thighs and pulling him back against his chest. The contact stung his raw skin but Ianto welcomed it anyway. That and the feel of Harkness' dick hard against him. "I'm starting to think," Harkness said, "that you aren't a soldier at all."

Ianto sighed and let his head fall back against Harkness' shoulder. "I know," he said. "But why else would I be out here?"

"Hundreds of reasons. Thousands. You could be a tutor or a clerk or-" He laughed. "Perhaps you're a rich tourist. A duke. Perhaps I've had a duke as my batman."

"Perhaps you've had a duke's dick up your arse," Ianto said.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Harkness said easily, and Ianto's stomach curled with jealousy. "The trouble is that even if you aren't actually a soldier, you've got the uniform. And it's a war. They're not likely to let you take it off now."

"You let me take it off," Ianto said, and laughed as Harkness brushed his thumbs over Ianto's nipples.

"I have ulterior motives," Harkness said. "Which is why I'm quite happy for you to put the uniform back on and keep pretending."

Ianto didn't have to think about it. "I'm okay with that," he said.

* * *

In the morning, after they were dressed, Harkness unfastened Ianto's pack and emptied out most of the contents. "They can go on the baggage wagon with my kit," he said. "Pad your pack with straw and nobody'll be able to tell the difference." He rested his hands on Ianto's hips. "Let's break you in gently," he murmured into Ianto's ear and it sounded so desperately filthy that Ianto caught his breath.

"God, sir," he whispered. "I want-"

"Oh, so do I." Harkness' fingers tightened and he slid one hand round to the small of Ianto's back, slipped it under the waistband of Ianto's trousers. "I want you sprawled naked on linen sheets. I want to watch you properly when you come. I want days on end to learn what makes you fall apart under my hands." A breath of laughter. "I want to bend you over and fuck you so you can't sit down for a week."

"Sir..."

"Shit, we don't have time," Harkness said, and pulled away. He glanced at Ianto's groin and his mouth twitched in a grin. "But I can't send you out there like that. Come on." He pushed Ianto back against the wall and dropped to his knees. "Bet you don't last more than a minute."

"I don't have a stopwatch," Ianto said, and felt a sudden tug of _something_. But then Harkness had his trousers undone and his mouth was hot on Ianto's dick and whatever it was was gone as Ianto gave himself up.

Afterwards, he leaned bonelessly against the wall and watched Harkness pack Ianto's gear into his own bags. "Sir," he said. "What's your name?"

Harkness looked up. "Jack."

"Jack." Ianto nodded. It was familiar.

"But better not to use it too much," Harkness said as he fastened the last bag. "Slip up in public and..."

Ianto blinked. "And what?"

Harkness stood up and slung the bag onto his shoulder. "Well, I don't know about you but I don't fancy life imprisonment for sodomy."

It felt as though he'd been punched in the gut.

"You knew, right?" Harkness said.

Ianto shook his head.

"Oh." Harkness raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's an inconvenient thing to have forgotten."

"If I ever knew it," Ianto said.

Harkness glanced at his watch. "Damn, I've got to go. Tonight, okay?"

"Tonight," Ianto echoed.

* * *

Gwen and Owen were both asleep on the sofa when Tosh straightened up and smiled. Jack was down the stairs from his office in seconds. "You've fixed it?"

"Almost."

"Almost's not the answer I was looking for, Tosh." Jack's breath was tight.

"It'll definitely get you there. Almost definitely." She looked a little frustrated. "I just can't guarantee the override will hold long enough to get you back."

"Good enough," Jack said and took the wriststrap from her, buckling it back on.

"Wrong," Gwen said, stumbling a little and still half-asleep.

"If I can't get back..." Jack shrugged. "I'll just take the long road round."

"He's got a point," Owen said. "Even if he can't get back with the wriststrap, he'll still walk in through the door tomorrow morning."

"_He_ will," Gwen said, "but Ianto won't."

"Maybe he won't," Jack said. "But I'll make damn sure he gets through the war alive." This one and the next one.

"But if you just wait a day, Tosh might be able to get the wriststrap more reliable," Gwen said. She turned to Tosh. "Right?"

Mouth tight, Tosh shook her head. "It's as good as I can get it. And the longer you wait, the more likely it is that the override'll fail."

"Do you even know where you're _going_?" Gwen demanded.

"I remember the Marne," Jack said. And he was damn well going to get Ianto out before that. "Anyone got anything else to say?"

"Yeah." Owen fished under his desk and pulled out a small first aid kit. "Take that. Medicine back then was total crap."

Jack met Owen's gaze and nodded, letting him know that he'd heard what Owen wasn't saying. "Then I'm going," Jack said. He opened the wriststrap to program the coordinates. "I'll see you in five minutes." He looked up and grinned. "Or tomorrow morning."

And he went.

* * *

As he marched, Ianto paid more attention to the men around him. He couldn't help but notice that nobody got too close to him. When they broke for lunch, people carefully moved away from him before settling down to doze.

It was impossible to keep a secret when you were living every stride with eight hundred people.

And Ianto had to keep a tight lock on his fear. Keep his eyes on the ground and just put one foot in front of the other.

* * *

When they stopped for the night, Ianto didn't bother looking for anywhere private; just set up their bedrolls in the same barn as the rest of the platoon and carefully kept several feet between his and Harkness'.

Harkness' jaw tightened when he saw it. "Come with me, Jones."

"Yes, sir," Ianto said and, a couple of steps behind, followed Harkness into the scullery of the empty farmhouse. And then he was against the wall, Harkness pressed against him, and Ianto turned his head to avoid Harkness' kiss.

"What the hell's the matter?" Harkness demanded.

"I won't do it any more," Ianto said.

Harkness waited.

"I didn't know what I was risking," Ianto said. "I didn't know..."

"So you're scared."

"Of course I'm bloody scared! Life in prison? Aren't you?"

"It's not going to happen," Harkness said, leaning into Ianto again. "Nobody's going to make a fuss."

"They _know_. The whole bloody company _knows_. They look at me and-"

"Of course they know," Harkness said, as though it was the most obvious thing under the sun. "But as long as we don't shove it in their faces, they'll ignore it. It's what the Army does."

"You're not the one who's going to have to fight next to them," Ianto said. "When you don't even know how to bloody well fight."

"You're my batman," Harkness said. "You'll be fighting next to me. And I won't let anybody hurt you."

"You'll be too busy stopping them from hurting you," Ianto said.

"_No_, I-" Harkness took a steadying breath. "Just trust me on this, Jones. _I_ haven't got a thing to worry about when we're fighting."

And Ianto felt that tug. Something inside him telling him... "I believe you," he said.

"Good." Harkness' mouth was on Ianto's, kissing him, and Ianto closed his eyes and gave himself up to it.

And an American voice from the doorway said, "My god. I was so fucking _stupid_. And you're not much better, Ianto."

Harkness jumped away and Ianto looked up and-

Harkness. Two of them. The new one in trousers and a blue coat. RAF coat, Ianto thought, and wondered how he knew.

"But thank god you're okay."

And the new Harkness was pushing the old one away and kissing Ianto and Ianto wasn't sure why he didn't object, just breathed, "Jack..."

"And you." Jack turned on Harkness, one hand still resting possessively on Ianto's shoulder. "I'm amazed you remember to breathe. Not noticing he _obviously_ wasn't from now? Running the risk of life imprisonment? You think they wouldn't notice something weird about you."

"It doesn't seem to have stopped you," Harkness said. "And things aren't that much better in the Second World War."

"I'm not _from_ the Second World War. I'm from 2008," Jack said. "I just dress like this because-"

"Because you're a drama queen." Harkness' mouth twitched. "I know. It's why we joined a Scottish regiment."

"We do look good in the kilt," Jack said, and they both fell silent.

"Excuse me," Ianto said. "But what the _fuck_ is going on?"

"I'm here to take you home, of course," Jack said. He turned to Harkness. "And you. You need to take this." He handed over the retcon. "Amnesia pill."

Harkness frowned and shifted backwards. "I've still got issues about that kind of thing."

"I know. But I don't remember any of this so you take it." Jack raised an admonitory eyebrow. "You're not causing a paradox just because you don't want to forget Ianto."

"If you don't remember, then I suppose I take it," Harkness said, and swallowed the pill, then pulled a face. "You couldn't make these things taste nicer? I'm in the middle of a war, you know."

"I really was an idiot," Jack said, and turned to Ianto. "And you. You should have known better than to encourage me."

"I don't know who the hell you are!" Ianto shouted.

Harkness grinned. "He's got amnesia. Got hit on the head."

"And you still- Oh, who am I kidding. Of course you still fucked him."

"I get so _boring_ in my old age," Harkness said. "Okay, okay, take him and go."

Jack's hands were gentle on Ianto's face. "Ready to go home?" he asked.

Ianto glanced at Harkness, who nodded. "I suppose so," Ianto said.

Jack turned to Harkness. "And you. You may be the stupidest man on the planet right now but - good luck." He dropped a quick kiss on Harkness' mouth. And then a not-so-quick kiss. And then a very, very slow kiss. Finally, he pulled back. "I am good."

Harkness' smile was smug. "Good luck, Jones," he said. "I wish I'd be able to miss you."

"Yes, sir," Ianto said. And he let Jack pull him in close and watched Harkness over Jack's shoulder as the world vanished.

* * *

"It's been more than five minutes," Gwen said.

"Well spotted," Owen said. "I'd never have noticed if you hadn't said."

"If the override's failing," Tosh said, "it's not going to be as accurate. He could miss a bit."

"How much is a bit?" Gwen asked.

Tosh shrugged. "A day, maybe two. And the location could be off as well."

"He's not going to pop out in the middle of the Atlantic is he?" Gwen asked.

"That'd be quite funny," Owen said. "Escaping the First World War to drown in the Atlantic."

"It wouldn't be funny at all!" Gwen said.

Owen rolled his eyes. "Alanis Morissette'd like it."

"It's not going to happen anyway," Tosh said. "The wriststrap has safety features. And I didn't _touch_ those."

"So..." Gwen said. "We just wait."

"Yes," Tosh said.

Owen sighed. "Can anybody make coffee?"

* * *

Six hours later, the door alarms sounded.

Gwen and Tosh exchanged glances and ran for the door, just in time to see Jack step through.

Gwen faltered.

"Jack?" Tosh said. "Where's Ian-" And then Ianto stepped into view and Tosh's grin nearly split her face in two. "Ianto!"

"Er. Hello," Ianto said.

"He's got amnesia," Jack said. "Where's Owen?"

"Here," Owen sauntered over with blatantly fake nonchalance.

"He got hit on the head on his way through the rift," Jack said, steering Ianto towards the medical bay. "For him, it's been three, four days. He's showing no signs of slurring or delayed thought - he just can't remember much beyond his own name. And he recognised me when he saw me - both of me - but didn't know where from."

"Let's have a look then," Owen said. "I'm Dr. Owen Harper, Ianto. You think I'm fucking fantastic and nothing makes you happier than making me coffee."

Ianto's eyes narrowed. "Just because I can't remember you," he said, "it doesn't mean I can't tell when you're lying your bloody head off."

"That's our Ianto," Owen said. "Sweet and generous to a fault."

* * *

"Mild concussion," Owen pronounced after a lengthy examination. "The normal amnesia was just exacerbated by there being nothing familiar around to jog his memory. Now he's back home, he should be back to normal in a day or so." He turned away to pack up his instruments. "Stick him back in one of his suits and he'll be fine."

"I'm not sure whether I'm remembering not liking you very much," Ianto said, "or if it's just a logical deduction."

"That," Owen said, "hurts. And after I even warmed my stethoscope for you."

"Do you need to keep an eye on him?" Jack asked.

"Nah. Send him home to sleep it off." Owen raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming you'll be with him?"

"Of course," Jack said.

* * *

Ianto, freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, wandered round his flat while Jack made coffee. "I recognise it," he said, when Jack carried the mugs of coffee through. "It's definitely familiar. It just doesn't feel like home."

"I don't think you spend a lot of time here," Jack said. "You're normally at work."

"The Hub, yes?" Ianto said.

"That's it."

"Right." Ianto sat down on the inoffensively modern sofa and sipped his coffee. "So, you and me. We are shagging, right?"

Jack studied his own mug, turning it round in his hands. "We've had a lot of sex and been on one date."

Ianto nodded. "Good to know there was a reason for leaping on Harkness."

The silence stretched between them and finally Ianto put down his half-full mug.

"I'm going to go to bed," he said. He paused at the doorway. "Do you... I mean, do we sleep in the same bed?"

"I'll take the sofa," Jack said and Ianto nodded slowly before leaving.

* * *

The clock on Ianto's DVD recorder blinked to 03:12 and Jack hadn't moved in five hours.

He looked up as the living room door opened. "Come to bed," Ianto said.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Three days later, Jack leaned back in his office chair and said, "What do you want to ask me?"

Ianto smiled. "Is it that obvious?"

"You've dusted that shelf three times."

Ianto carefully moved a pile of papers out of the way and sat down on Jack's desk. "Why were you there?"

Jack shut his eyes and breathed a laugh. "Because I thought it would be _fun_. I could live through one of those bits of history that everybody knows about, and be completely safe the entire time."

Ianto nodded slowly.

"I wasn't expecting to end up feeling responsible for my men. I'd never been responsible for anybody until then, not like that."

"I see," Ianto said.

"And then, it was just four years of non-stop hell and I hated every minute. I died over and over again and it was never enough to save the people I cared about. Not even close to enough. I came out the other side angry, hurting and nearly crazy." Jack took a deep breath. "Actually, scratch the 'nearly'. But I was still the lucky bastard who came out alive." He rubbed Ianto's thigh. "I'm sorry you had to meet me as I was then."

"You weren't so bad," Ianto said after a long moment. "And you did look good in the kilt."

"You looked very good in the puttees."

"I have the legs for them," Ianto agreed solemnly.

"If you ever feel like..."

Ianto slid off Jack's desk. "Put the kilt back on and I just might."

**Author's Note:**

> **Historical notes**
> 
> 1\. I know the term 'batman' is anachronistic. I'm using it partly because 'soldier-servant' sounds stupid and partly because Pat Barker uses it in the Regeneration trilogy and I worship Pat Barker to a truly unhealthy degree. I fanwank my own story by saying that Jack is a walking anachronism and he's therefore allowed to slip up. Ditto Ianto at this point.
> 
> 2\. Jack being in a kilt was entirely accidental, especially as I started the story solely because I wanted Ianto in puttees. (Don't judge my kinks, dude.) I wanted to begin the action shortly after Le Cateau and the most convenient regiment was the Argyll &amp; Sutherland Highlanders. So, Jack got a kilt. Unfortunately, this also resulted in Ianto getting a [bonnet](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glengarry). Don't blame me, I didn't come up with the name.
> 
> 3\. Jack should be on a horse. Yes, even though he's wearing a kilt. Those Scottish regiments are _tough_. However, I could come up with no justification whatsoever for Ianto knowing how to look after a horse - which would have been part of his duties as Jack's batman - so I left the horse out. Feel free either to imagine it in or decide it was a casualty of Le Cateau.


End file.
